iyellatcloud
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The Oregon Trail
1971
Half-Century Challenge Series: https://www.backloggd.com/u/C_F/list/half-century-challenge/
HCC #2 = Oregon Trail (1971)
Anybody remember playing video games in your school's computer lab? I was a tech savvy kid who always finished work early, so I had quite a few things I would put on to pass the time. Showing off cheat codes to my classmates in flash games like Stick RPG or Swords & Sandals 2. The reactions when I entered a comma at the end of my character's name and clicked randomize made me feel so proud of tapping into the hidden knowledge of how to break some silly Newgrounds game. Putting a flash drive with SNES emulators inside the school's PC... I'll never forget the time my classmate saw me struggling with the button mashing minigame in Chrono Trigger. Mainly since it led to him mashing the spacebar so hard he finished it with plenty of time to spare while half the class stared at him due to the noise he was making. Hell, I even remember making a visual novel for my senior project. I wish I had saved it outside of class in hindsight, but what can you do?
Anyways, on one slow day my teacher let me play Oregon Trail after proclaiming it was an edutainment game I would enjoy. All I could wonder was how it would be possible to learn a lesson and play a game at the same time.
Needless to say I was in awe. It was like getting a crash course on money management, American history, and arithmetic all in one. At the time, it never occurred to me how silly the game was. I never stopped to think about how goofy the idea of going to sleep and getting SIX FUCKING OXEN stolen from me was. I never stopped to wonder if the prices actually made sense for the time period. Cus, frankly, none of that was too important to me. None of that is important to me right now.
To me, games are so much more than the graphics, the music, the text, the data occupying the screen. Oregon Trail is more than some silly edutainment game I played half a lifetime ago. It's a connection.
I can't remember my classmates' names. I can't remember my teacher's name. I can't easily Google "what school did I go to in 2010" or anything. I can easily Google Oregon Trail. Every year, our memory fades more and more. The digital footprint of Oregon Trail, however, hasn't faded.
I almost vividly remember naming my Oregon Trail party members after my classmates and my teacher. I recall wondering what the fuck dysentery was and being upset I let "my classmate" die. I know how accomplished I felt to have beaten the game in such a short timeframe. Every 4th of July, I run a simulation of this game with my friend group and save some screencaps. I like to think it helps somehow.
I could sit here and tell you about how Oregon Trail is the longest running game franchise. I could tell you how Oregon Trail started as a random teacher's indie game before becoming the most impactful edutainment game ever made.
But the truth is, none of that is important to me. My memories with this game are important to me. I don't even know if I can really rec this game unless you're a nerd like me who plays notable games academically. At least it's an hour long tops?
And as Alek Wek once said, the most beautiful things are not associated with money; they are memories and moments. If you don't celebrate those, they can pass you by. The creator of Oregon Trail said in an interview that even if he didn't get to buy his own private island from all the money Oregon Trail made, he doesn't care since he's still so happy a game he made in 10 days is still so celebrated. And that's just beautiful.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8QbjlHeoLdc
Next time: Pong (1972)
HCC #2 = Oregon Trail (1971)
Anybody remember playing video games in your school's computer lab? I was a tech savvy kid who always finished work early, so I had quite a few things I would put on to pass the time. Showing off cheat codes to my classmates in flash games like Stick RPG or Swords & Sandals 2. The reactions when I entered a comma at the end of my character's name and clicked randomize made me feel so proud of tapping into the hidden knowledge of how to break some silly Newgrounds game. Putting a flash drive with SNES emulators inside the school's PC... I'll never forget the time my classmate saw me struggling with the button mashing minigame in Chrono Trigger. Mainly since it led to him mashing the spacebar so hard he finished it with plenty of time to spare while half the class stared at him due to the noise he was making. Hell, I even remember making a visual novel for my senior project. I wish I had saved it outside of class in hindsight, but what can you do?
Anyways, on one slow day my teacher let me play Oregon Trail after proclaiming it was an edutainment game I would enjoy. All I could wonder was how it would be possible to learn a lesson and play a game at the same time.
Needless to say I was in awe. It was like getting a crash course on money management, American history, and arithmetic all in one. At the time, it never occurred to me how silly the game was. I never stopped to think about how goofy the idea of going to sleep and getting SIX FUCKING OXEN stolen from me was. I never stopped to wonder if the prices actually made sense for the time period. Cus, frankly, none of that was too important to me. None of that is important to me right now.
To me, games are so much more than the graphics, the music, the text, the data occupying the screen. Oregon Trail is more than some silly edutainment game I played half a lifetime ago. It's a connection.
I can't remember my classmates' names. I can't remember my teacher's name. I can't easily Google "what school did I go to in 2010" or anything. I can easily Google Oregon Trail. Every year, our memory fades more and more. The digital footprint of Oregon Trail, however, hasn't faded.
I almost vividly remember naming my Oregon Trail party members after my classmates and my teacher. I recall wondering what the fuck dysentery was and being upset I let "my classmate" die. I know how accomplished I felt to have beaten the game in such a short timeframe. Every 4th of July, I run a simulation of this game with my friend group and save some screencaps. I like to think it helps somehow.
I could sit here and tell you about how Oregon Trail is the longest running game franchise. I could tell you how Oregon Trail started as a random teacher's indie game before becoming the most impactful edutainment game ever made.
But the truth is, none of that is important to me. My memories with this game are important to me. I don't even know if I can really rec this game unless you're a nerd like me who plays notable games academically. At least it's an hour long tops?
And as Alek Wek once said, the most beautiful things are not associated with money; they are memories and moments. If you don't celebrate those, they can pass you by. The creator of Oregon Trail said in an interview that even if he didn't get to buy his own private island from all the money Oregon Trail made, he doesn't care since he's still so happy a game he made in 10 days is still so celebrated. And that's just beautiful.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8QbjlHeoLdc
Next time: Pong (1972)
Game of Life
1970
Half-Century Challenge Series: https://www.backloggd.com/u/C_F/list/half-century-challenge/
HCC #1 = Game of Life (1970)
Hello everyone, I'm happy to announce Mega and I are engaging in the site's first Half-Century Challenge! We are both playing 50 games spanning from 1970 to 2020 and reviewing each one as we go along. Look forward to the series as a whole!
So, let's talk about Game of Life. This is not a 1 player game but a 0 player game, meaning it is played without any input from the player and merely observed. This game led the way to all sorts of 0 player games in the future such as Progress Quest, Godville, and, hell, CPU VS CPU matches in fighting games or whatever the hell. Essentially, the game is determined by RNG seeds before it even begins.
It looks like a simple game where some squares can live and die. But there is so much more to it. The abstract shapes function as a sort of Rorschach test, and I think that's kinda incredible for something from 1970. Gliders, spacers, pulse stars, etc are all potentially viewable from inside the grid.
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e5/Gospers_glider_gun.gif
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conway%27s_Game_of_Life#/media/File:Game_of_life_pulsar.gif
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/4f/Animated_Hwss.gif
It's pretty telling that new patterns were being discovered for decades after its release, to say nothing of the countless times it has been recreated. It is directly homaged in various future games for good reason. Google "Game of Life" and thank me later.
Overall, Game of Life probably isn't something the player will be spending hours on. However, to quote John Apollo 11, it was one small step for a game, one giant leap for gaming. The term video game has sorta outgrown its origins. In the 70s, experiences like electronic versions of Pong were all the rage. The term "video game" is only so ubiquitous now since the medium harkened forth the image of games like Pong being recreated on a screen.
The fact Game of Life continues to be a cultural landmark, to say nothing of the fact it simulated something the players could never hope to recreate in real life with something along the lines of a ball and paddle? If that doesn't scream the medium was always a unique form of art, I'm not sure what does.
Next time: The Oregon Trail (1971)
HCC #1 = Game of Life (1970)
Hello everyone, I'm happy to announce Mega and I are engaging in the site's first Half-Century Challenge! We are both playing 50 games spanning from 1970 to 2020 and reviewing each one as we go along. Look forward to the series as a whole!
So, let's talk about Game of Life. This is not a 1 player game but a 0 player game, meaning it is played without any input from the player and merely observed. This game led the way to all sorts of 0 player games in the future such as Progress Quest, Godville, and, hell, CPU VS CPU matches in fighting games or whatever the hell. Essentially, the game is determined by RNG seeds before it even begins.
It looks like a simple game where some squares can live and die. But there is so much more to it. The abstract shapes function as a sort of Rorschach test, and I think that's kinda incredible for something from 1970. Gliders, spacers, pulse stars, etc are all potentially viewable from inside the grid.
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e5/Gospers_glider_gun.gif
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conway%27s_Game_of_Life#/media/File:Game_of_life_pulsar.gif
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/4f/Animated_Hwss.gif
It's pretty telling that new patterns were being discovered for decades after its release, to say nothing of the countless times it has been recreated. It is directly homaged in various future games for good reason. Google "Game of Life" and thank me later.
Overall, Game of Life probably isn't something the player will be spending hours on. However, to quote John Apollo 11, it was one small step for a game, one giant leap for gaming. The term video game has sorta outgrown its origins. In the 70s, experiences like electronic versions of Pong were all the rage. The term "video game" is only so ubiquitous now since the medium harkened forth the image of games like Pong being recreated on a screen.
The fact Game of Life continues to be a cultural landmark, to say nothing of the fact it simulated something the players could never hope to recreate in real life with something along the lines of a ball and paddle? If that doesn't scream the medium was always a unique form of art, I'm not sure what does.
Next time: The Oregon Trail (1971)
Xenogears
1998
This review contains spoilers
Xenogears - as a piece of art - is incomplete. It’s a game defined by a tragic story of a development cycle that continued to never sway in its favor. Yet it’s exactly through that that Xenogears is as fascinating as it is. You can never truly separate art from its process of creation. Whether intentionally or not, it will always find itself manifested somehow in the final work. It is an unavoidable effect of the fact that creating art is projecting yourself onto a blank canvas.
The main and underlying theme of the game is that we, as people, cannot be complete. Everyone is flawed in some way. No-one is ever truly ‘whole’, and you can never truly become that. Instead, Xenogears suggests that everyone is an imperfect half, made to be complimented by another imperfect half. The main visual symbol for this theme are the statues of the one-winged angels. Two religious symbols of imperfection, existing to fill in each other’s flaws by helping each other, and being there for one another.
This theme is also explored in the game’s most iconic scene, that being Adrift at sea where Fei and Elly, upon becoming stranded together, share a moment of introspection. The introspection intentionally omits any dialogue boxes or signs of who is talking, because the scene is wholly universal to the both of them. It is what they both needed to hear at that exact time. They feel happy to help each other, both through their mutual introspection, as well as through the sharing of rations.
"It's okay to not be 'whole'. Even if you only feel partly complete, if you repeat that enough, eventually it'll be 'whole'. A part... is better than zero."
Yet I’ve always found that even stronger than any narrative symbol for the game’s themes, is the nature of the game’s release itself. Xenogears was dealt a bad hand by Square Enix. Initially rejected from being Final Fantasy VII in favor of Yoshinori Kitase’s game, and then rushed through development and faced with a difficult choice. Tetsuya Takahashi was told that he could either release disk one as a separate game, then pray for a sequel that would most likely never come to be, or rush disk two and release it in an incomplete state. He chose the latter, and while I believe he made the right choice, he has clearly been haunted by it ever since.
A game about imperfect halves ended up being forced to have half of it utterly incomplete. Disk two is extremely rough around the edges. Its balancing is all over the place, it omits most gameplay and opts instead to describe what happens over text, it never has any time to focus on anything else than what is most important. It’s a rushed effort for the sake of completing an ambitious vision that was not allowed to come to light.
Coming back to the game’s relation to FFVII, I find that both games are completely inseparable. I don’t think you can earnestly analyze one without connecting it to the other. Perhaps exactly because they were both initially supposed to be the same game, they hold a lot of connections with each other, be they narrative, thematic, or general execution. Both games are perfect companion pieces for each other, and playing both of them in close vicinity of one another sheds so much insight into the inner workings of both games. Once again, two imperfect halves filling each other in to make one another more ‘whole’.
But there is also a much more cynical way of looking at this. When asked in an interview which character Takahashi relates most to, he answered that it’s Ramsus. While at first this seems like a very funny answer, it makes a lot of sense if you consider it in the context of the game’s fate. Ramsus was created to be a perfect being. He was created by Krelian to become the contact, and to kill and replace Emperor Cain. In the end, however, Ramsus was a scrapped project in favor of Fei, who showed much more promise as the contact. Ramsus came into the world as an imperfect existence, replaced by Fei since birth, and only finds solace in the idea of killing Fei to prove his status as an ultimate existence.
Ramsus IS Xenogears, and Fei is Final Fantasy VII. And if you will humor me to take this analogy further, Krelian is Square Enix. Xenogears too was a promising concept, in the end replaced in favor of its peer. Xenogears too was forced to come in as an imperfect existence, completely and utterly overshadowed by what ultimately became the biggest JRPG to ever exist. Ramsus is a character that is essential to understanding the whole of Xenogears, because his character is Takahashi’s spite and resentment towards both Square Enix and Final Fantasy VII projecting directly onto a canvas.
I’ve often pondered the hypothetical of “What if Xenogears DID get to release as Final Fantasy VII” and wholeheartedly I believe that it would have the same amount of influence as FFVII did. That influence would just be taken in a different direction. Xenogears and FFVII share so much between each other that I do sincerely believe that the reception of XG as FFVII would not be much different from what FFVII ended up receiving. Of course, there is no way to prove this. This is a mere hypothetical decided by a lot of different factors. Maybe Xenogears wouldn’t have succeeded as FFVII, maybe it would. Regardless, the sheer idea that this beautiful game could have had the same amount of influence, is ultimately extremely tragic, and I think this is definitely something that was on Takahashi’s mind. Once again, not unlike the relationship Ramsus and Fei have over the course of the game.
Entertaining the idea of Krelian as Square Enix is admittedly a humorous one, because it’s so scathingly spiteful. Krelian doesn’t care about any of his creations. He’s willing to make anyone suffer for his own benefit, and no amount of human pain is ever too much if it means achieving his goal. He actively experiments on humans, then feeds said humans to other people. He is a mad scientist who has no qualms about robbing people of their lives and transforming them into monsters. When he scraps using Ramsus as the contact for the sake of Fei, he does it directly in front of him, and acknowledges that he’s already able to understand everything he is saying. Was this how Takahashi felt being told about the promise of Final Fantasy VII as his vision was being actively shut down? There is no way to know for sure, but I don't think it's a stretch to imagine it that way.
It’s truly no wonder that Takahashi has spent the rest of his career attempting to recapture and remake Xenogears. The Xenoblade series so actively attempts to finish the vision he never got to accomplish with Gears. Across the entire series, there are so many major parallels, often down to following the exact same plot points. Takahashi is by all means a successful creative nowadays. Xenoblade Chronicles is an enormous JRPG series, respected over the entire world. That in turn shows just how deep the scars caused by Xenogears go. Even Xenoblade 3, the big conclusion to his series, ended up being about finishing his vision for Xenogears. The parallels between N and Lacan are really not hard to spot, with some segments between the two being nigh identical.
On the other hand, I do find it important to mention that Xenoblade Chronicles 3 contains a direct reference to Final Fantasy VII. Towards the end of the game, Noah can be seen standing in front of a skyscraper much in the same composition as the iconic cover of FFVII. Referencing a game that ruined everything for him in a wholly respectful way feels really cool, and possibly means he no longer holds feelings of resentment towards the game that doomed his own project. Whether this is an empty homage or proof that Takahashi has let go, who can truly know, but I would rather believe the latter.
Xenogears is a beautiful and massive game that can be analyzed under so many lenses. There is sincerely so much to talk about with this game. With this essay, I purely just wanted to focus on what I always found to be most fascinating about it. Going back to my initial thesis: art cannot be separated from its creation process. Takahashi’s frustrations, his sadness, his anger, it all comes through in the game. Disk two is not finished, and it’s not even conventionally good, in spite of containing a lot of the game’s best scenes. But that only makes the game so much more beautiful in my eyes. Xenogears managed to become its own self serving proof of its themes.
Xenogears is incomplete. Xenogears is not whole, and will never be whole. Xenogears was robbed of its chance to be huge.
And yet, if you look at it just right, Xenogears is perfect.
The main and underlying theme of the game is that we, as people, cannot be complete. Everyone is flawed in some way. No-one is ever truly ‘whole’, and you can never truly become that. Instead, Xenogears suggests that everyone is an imperfect half, made to be complimented by another imperfect half. The main visual symbol for this theme are the statues of the one-winged angels. Two religious symbols of imperfection, existing to fill in each other’s flaws by helping each other, and being there for one another.
This theme is also explored in the game’s most iconic scene, that being Adrift at sea where Fei and Elly, upon becoming stranded together, share a moment of introspection. The introspection intentionally omits any dialogue boxes or signs of who is talking, because the scene is wholly universal to the both of them. It is what they both needed to hear at that exact time. They feel happy to help each other, both through their mutual introspection, as well as through the sharing of rations.
"It's okay to not be 'whole'. Even if you only feel partly complete, if you repeat that enough, eventually it'll be 'whole'. A part... is better than zero."
Yet I’ve always found that even stronger than any narrative symbol for the game’s themes, is the nature of the game’s release itself. Xenogears was dealt a bad hand by Square Enix. Initially rejected from being Final Fantasy VII in favor of Yoshinori Kitase’s game, and then rushed through development and faced with a difficult choice. Tetsuya Takahashi was told that he could either release disk one as a separate game, then pray for a sequel that would most likely never come to be, or rush disk two and release it in an incomplete state. He chose the latter, and while I believe he made the right choice, he has clearly been haunted by it ever since.
A game about imperfect halves ended up being forced to have half of it utterly incomplete. Disk two is extremely rough around the edges. Its balancing is all over the place, it omits most gameplay and opts instead to describe what happens over text, it never has any time to focus on anything else than what is most important. It’s a rushed effort for the sake of completing an ambitious vision that was not allowed to come to light.
Coming back to the game’s relation to FFVII, I find that both games are completely inseparable. I don’t think you can earnestly analyze one without connecting it to the other. Perhaps exactly because they were both initially supposed to be the same game, they hold a lot of connections with each other, be they narrative, thematic, or general execution. Both games are perfect companion pieces for each other, and playing both of them in close vicinity of one another sheds so much insight into the inner workings of both games. Once again, two imperfect halves filling each other in to make one another more ‘whole’.
But there is also a much more cynical way of looking at this. When asked in an interview which character Takahashi relates most to, he answered that it’s Ramsus. While at first this seems like a very funny answer, it makes a lot of sense if you consider it in the context of the game’s fate. Ramsus was created to be a perfect being. He was created by Krelian to become the contact, and to kill and replace Emperor Cain. In the end, however, Ramsus was a scrapped project in favor of Fei, who showed much more promise as the contact. Ramsus came into the world as an imperfect existence, replaced by Fei since birth, and only finds solace in the idea of killing Fei to prove his status as an ultimate existence.
Ramsus IS Xenogears, and Fei is Final Fantasy VII. And if you will humor me to take this analogy further, Krelian is Square Enix. Xenogears too was a promising concept, in the end replaced in favor of its peer. Xenogears too was forced to come in as an imperfect existence, completely and utterly overshadowed by what ultimately became the biggest JRPG to ever exist. Ramsus is a character that is essential to understanding the whole of Xenogears, because his character is Takahashi’s spite and resentment towards both Square Enix and Final Fantasy VII projecting directly onto a canvas.
I’ve often pondered the hypothetical of “What if Xenogears DID get to release as Final Fantasy VII” and wholeheartedly I believe that it would have the same amount of influence as FFVII did. That influence would just be taken in a different direction. Xenogears and FFVII share so much between each other that I do sincerely believe that the reception of XG as FFVII would not be much different from what FFVII ended up receiving. Of course, there is no way to prove this. This is a mere hypothetical decided by a lot of different factors. Maybe Xenogears wouldn’t have succeeded as FFVII, maybe it would. Regardless, the sheer idea that this beautiful game could have had the same amount of influence, is ultimately extremely tragic, and I think this is definitely something that was on Takahashi’s mind. Once again, not unlike the relationship Ramsus and Fei have over the course of the game.
Entertaining the idea of Krelian as Square Enix is admittedly a humorous one, because it’s so scathingly spiteful. Krelian doesn’t care about any of his creations. He’s willing to make anyone suffer for his own benefit, and no amount of human pain is ever too much if it means achieving his goal. He actively experiments on humans, then feeds said humans to other people. He is a mad scientist who has no qualms about robbing people of their lives and transforming them into monsters. When he scraps using Ramsus as the contact for the sake of Fei, he does it directly in front of him, and acknowledges that he’s already able to understand everything he is saying. Was this how Takahashi felt being told about the promise of Final Fantasy VII as his vision was being actively shut down? There is no way to know for sure, but I don't think it's a stretch to imagine it that way.
It’s truly no wonder that Takahashi has spent the rest of his career attempting to recapture and remake Xenogears. The Xenoblade series so actively attempts to finish the vision he never got to accomplish with Gears. Across the entire series, there are so many major parallels, often down to following the exact same plot points. Takahashi is by all means a successful creative nowadays. Xenoblade Chronicles is an enormous JRPG series, respected over the entire world. That in turn shows just how deep the scars caused by Xenogears go. Even Xenoblade 3, the big conclusion to his series, ended up being about finishing his vision for Xenogears. The parallels between N and Lacan are really not hard to spot, with some segments between the two being nigh identical.
On the other hand, I do find it important to mention that Xenoblade Chronicles 3 contains a direct reference to Final Fantasy VII. Towards the end of the game, Noah can be seen standing in front of a skyscraper much in the same composition as the iconic cover of FFVII. Referencing a game that ruined everything for him in a wholly respectful way feels really cool, and possibly means he no longer holds feelings of resentment towards the game that doomed his own project. Whether this is an empty homage or proof that Takahashi has let go, who can truly know, but I would rather believe the latter.
Xenogears is a beautiful and massive game that can be analyzed under so many lenses. There is sincerely so much to talk about with this game. With this essay, I purely just wanted to focus on what I always found to be most fascinating about it. Going back to my initial thesis: art cannot be separated from its creation process. Takahashi’s frustrations, his sadness, his anger, it all comes through in the game. Disk two is not finished, and it’s not even conventionally good, in spite of containing a lot of the game’s best scenes. But that only makes the game so much more beautiful in my eyes. Xenogears managed to become its own self serving proof of its themes.
Xenogears is incomplete. Xenogears is not whole, and will never be whole. Xenogears was robbed of its chance to be huge.
And yet, if you look at it just right, Xenogears is perfect.
Mega Man 8
1996
There's a couple different starting points I could recommend for the Mega Man newcomer, and they tend to vary based on your ability to adapt to antiquation. If starting from the beginning is ruled out, then I'd recommend Mega Man 3. If you don't want even a sliver of antiquation, then you could try 6. If the NES series as a whole is not your forte, I'd recommend 7- (bursts into laughter)
No, but seriously. Up until now, the series has had its share of good mixed with mid, and a rough difficulty that alienated those who don't have the patience required for it (or aren't using save states, anyway). And in the case of games like Mega Man 7 & Mega Man X3, if playing those caused you to say "fuck this" to the rest of the franchise, I wouldn't be surprised. But I think that'd also be an unfortunate shame. Because you would've been THIS close to the short-lived "PS1 Capcom reneissance", which bestowed upon us such classics as Resident Evil, alongside Mega Man X4, Mega Man Legends, and, our main subject for today: Mega Man 8. The first entry in the whole series that I would feel absolutely safe recommending not just to seasoned run 'n gun players, but to anybody.
However, this leads me into a thought that - while I generally do my best to avoid on Backloggd - I just couldn't help but think "How in the world do people think this is a 3/5?" I mean, look, if a person gave it a shot and all they got out of it is "average", I'll just have to respect that, we're all knocking heads about something as trite as game opinions anyway. And I ain't expecting a perfect score either, y'know. Still, here I am scratching my chin, and thinking to myself "Isn't this... what people trying to get into Mega Man wanted?"
It makes me wonder just how much of that opinion stems from a case of franchise burnout, combined with the expectation that the series will eventually innovate and modernize itself. Only for the disappointment to hit, when Mega Man 8 could be jadedly summed up as "just another one." "A prettier Mega Man 7." Well, I'll have to face the facts too. I don't think Mega Man 8 is ground breaking in any way. But comparing it to 7 - and every other prior game for that matter - the difference in accessibility is night and day.
You're not gonna hit the same levels of bullshit here that 7 threw at you, for one. The difficulty is lax enough, that if you wanted to, you could do the final boss without the need for recovery items, because guess what! The attack patterns are actually fair this time, whoOAOAOoaAOaoA! The same goes for every boss, which telegraph their attacks a lot better, making learning them a lot more fun. Bass's boss fight is such a huge glow-up from the one in 7, and goes down as one of my favorite boss encounters amongst the classic Mega Man series.
I even think that something like the snowboarding sequences are really not as bad as some people make it out to be, especially now that Mega Man 8 sports a "permanent checkpoint" feature. Reaching the halfway point of each stage allows you to always restart at that halfway point, even if you lose all your lifes. No more getting booted back to the very beginning, means that the challenge is more reasonable this time around. I don't think the Dr. Wily stages have those halfway checkpoints, but they tend to be half as short, with only one stage testing your limits. But even then, I really have to stress that nothing can reach the disaster that were 7's Dr. Wily stages, so, c'mon. You can do it!
The currency system has also been revamped, so that the bolts you need for the shop can only be found in specific nooks 'n crannies now, instead of being dropped by enemies. To compensate for the lesser quantity, the shop is now dedicated to purchasing permanent abilities. (E-Tanks have been replaced by your robot dog, who you can order to refill your health per every checkpoint, and every death too I think?) It's definitely worth going for them, they'll help you in the long run, but it's important to know that you will not be able to buy every ability in a single run. It's better to concentrate on a "build", by purchasing only the stuff that you think will appeal to your playstyle. Me personally, I've never understood the usefulness of stuff like the Laser & Arrow Shots, but being able to buy stuff like "Start the stage with 4 lifes instead of 2", or being able to recover more health from energy capsules helps tremendously.
Okay, so far my entire sales pitch has just been "It's good because it's easier", but that may not be enough to sway anybody from a 3/5 rating. And I suppose I'll have to accept that if you just don't have interest in the Mega Man formula as it currently stands, period, then... maybe this one ain't gonna do much for you. But right now, I'm focusing on that one guy that DOES see the fun in Mega Man's gameplay, they just don't jive with the difficulty. And if you are that person, then this is the earliest example of a Mega Man title you should be able to enjoy.
On top of the accessible difficulty, I also think the presentation here holds up pretty well. Just because the series didn't transition to 3D, doesn't mean it's not taking advantage of the PS1's capabilities. The spritework and backgrounds took a step-up in detail, and every stage sticks out in its vibrant and distinct choice of color. It's nice to stop and soak in the visuals once in a while. The soundtrack's up there as one of the series's chillest, but still manages to capture the essence of what these games are known for, while going for a unique sound that's difficult to find in other places. Both of these elements contribute to giving Mega Man 8 its own sense of identity. A stark contrast from the 6 NES Mega Mans that all felt like expansion packs to each other, Mega Man 8 toys around with presentation and mechanical variety in such a way that feels entirely familiar, yet suitable for a new generation of console.
I really like the cutscenes too, and I will die on this hill. Not that I'm blind to just how objectively terrible they are, but you're no fun if you think that's a detriment to the experience! The way the dubbing on this came out is its own miracle to appreciate, just so utterly "we don't give a fuck" in its energy that it goes back around to being just as entertaining as the Resident Evil 1 cutscenes. There ain't that many of them, but each one is unforgettable. Shoutouts to Wh- Mega Man's actress for tanking that 30-second scream. As a kid, it made me go "jesus christ." As an adult, it still makes me go "jesus christ", but now I'm more baffled than unsettled.
I don't know, man, this game just hits right. This is a properly polished Mega Man, right here. I could probably set my standards higher and ask for more, but considering that this would be the last classic Mega Man game for over a dozen years, I'd rather appreciate that the series managed to get a pretty pleasant one in before it got shelved in favor of its spinoffs. I'm not the type who needs innovation. I need heart. 8 has mine.
Now, if somebody could get Mega Man out of that recolored Looney Tunes background in the cover art, I would much appreciate it.
No, but seriously. Up until now, the series has had its share of good mixed with mid, and a rough difficulty that alienated those who don't have the patience required for it (or aren't using save states, anyway). And in the case of games like Mega Man 7 & Mega Man X3, if playing those caused you to say "fuck this" to the rest of the franchise, I wouldn't be surprised. But I think that'd also be an unfortunate shame. Because you would've been THIS close to the short-lived "PS1 Capcom reneissance", which bestowed upon us such classics as Resident Evil, alongside Mega Man X4, Mega Man Legends, and, our main subject for today: Mega Man 8. The first entry in the whole series that I would feel absolutely safe recommending not just to seasoned run 'n gun players, but to anybody.
However, this leads me into a thought that - while I generally do my best to avoid on Backloggd - I just couldn't help but think "How in the world do people think this is a 3/5?" I mean, look, if a person gave it a shot and all they got out of it is "average", I'll just have to respect that, we're all knocking heads about something as trite as game opinions anyway. And I ain't expecting a perfect score either, y'know. Still, here I am scratching my chin, and thinking to myself "Isn't this... what people trying to get into Mega Man wanted?"
It makes me wonder just how much of that opinion stems from a case of franchise burnout, combined with the expectation that the series will eventually innovate and modernize itself. Only for the disappointment to hit, when Mega Man 8 could be jadedly summed up as "just another one." "A prettier Mega Man 7." Well, I'll have to face the facts too. I don't think Mega Man 8 is ground breaking in any way. But comparing it to 7 - and every other prior game for that matter - the difference in accessibility is night and day.
You're not gonna hit the same levels of bullshit here that 7 threw at you, for one. The difficulty is lax enough, that if you wanted to, you could do the final boss without the need for recovery items, because guess what! The attack patterns are actually fair this time, whoOAOAOoaAOaoA! The same goes for every boss, which telegraph their attacks a lot better, making learning them a lot more fun. Bass's boss fight is such a huge glow-up from the one in 7, and goes down as one of my favorite boss encounters amongst the classic Mega Man series.
I even think that something like the snowboarding sequences are really not as bad as some people make it out to be, especially now that Mega Man 8 sports a "permanent checkpoint" feature. Reaching the halfway point of each stage allows you to always restart at that halfway point, even if you lose all your lifes. No more getting booted back to the very beginning, means that the challenge is more reasonable this time around. I don't think the Dr. Wily stages have those halfway checkpoints, but they tend to be half as short, with only one stage testing your limits. But even then, I really have to stress that nothing can reach the disaster that were 7's Dr. Wily stages, so, c'mon. You can do it!
The currency system has also been revamped, so that the bolts you need for the shop can only be found in specific nooks 'n crannies now, instead of being dropped by enemies. To compensate for the lesser quantity, the shop is now dedicated to purchasing permanent abilities. (E-Tanks have been replaced by your robot dog, who you can order to refill your health per every checkpoint, and every death too I think?) It's definitely worth going for them, they'll help you in the long run, but it's important to know that you will not be able to buy every ability in a single run. It's better to concentrate on a "build", by purchasing only the stuff that you think will appeal to your playstyle. Me personally, I've never understood the usefulness of stuff like the Laser & Arrow Shots, but being able to buy stuff like "Start the stage with 4 lifes instead of 2", or being able to recover more health from energy capsules helps tremendously.
Okay, so far my entire sales pitch has just been "It's good because it's easier", but that may not be enough to sway anybody from a 3/5 rating. And I suppose I'll have to accept that if you just don't have interest in the Mega Man formula as it currently stands, period, then... maybe this one ain't gonna do much for you. But right now, I'm focusing on that one guy that DOES see the fun in Mega Man's gameplay, they just don't jive with the difficulty. And if you are that person, then this is the earliest example of a Mega Man title you should be able to enjoy.
On top of the accessible difficulty, I also think the presentation here holds up pretty well. Just because the series didn't transition to 3D, doesn't mean it's not taking advantage of the PS1's capabilities. The spritework and backgrounds took a step-up in detail, and every stage sticks out in its vibrant and distinct choice of color. It's nice to stop and soak in the visuals once in a while. The soundtrack's up there as one of the series's chillest, but still manages to capture the essence of what these games are known for, while going for a unique sound that's difficult to find in other places. Both of these elements contribute to giving Mega Man 8 its own sense of identity. A stark contrast from the 6 NES Mega Mans that all felt like expansion packs to each other, Mega Man 8 toys around with presentation and mechanical variety in such a way that feels entirely familiar, yet suitable for a new generation of console.
I really like the cutscenes too, and I will die on this hill. Not that I'm blind to just how objectively terrible they are, but you're no fun if you think that's a detriment to the experience! The way the dubbing on this came out is its own miracle to appreciate, just so utterly "we don't give a fuck" in its energy that it goes back around to being just as entertaining as the Resident Evil 1 cutscenes. There ain't that many of them, but each one is unforgettable. Shoutouts to Wh- Mega Man's actress for tanking that 30-second scream. As a kid, it made me go "jesus christ." As an adult, it still makes me go "jesus christ", but now I'm more baffled than unsettled.
I don't know, man, this game just hits right. This is a properly polished Mega Man, right here. I could probably set my standards higher and ask for more, but considering that this would be the last classic Mega Man game for over a dozen years, I'd rather appreciate that the series managed to get a pretty pleasant one in before it got shelved in favor of its spinoffs. I'm not the type who needs innovation. I need heart. 8 has mine.
Now, if somebody could get Mega Man out of that recolored Looney Tunes background in the cover art, I would much appreciate it.
Do it for her: the official game
Castlevania
1986
I hope this flopped and they didn't make any other entries, that'd be worth a laugh! I havent had any playing this. This mf Simon with his perfectly chiseled chin and wealthiest caveman in the cave rizz can't whip worth a damn. Is he asexual? Why does he think he's him? Call it y = b^x the way shit went off the rails so fast, what a difficulty curve folks. You have to be there to see it. There's not really a specific enemy to make fun of so I won't focus on that aspect. Except Dracula on steroids but those were different times, the basement dweller community has foregiven Dracula.
Let's breakdown how the game plays. There are no input cancels obviously this ain't no Tekken, once you jump you are vulnerable for around 1 second and to approximately 33 threats, you can only walk and slightly crouch, not to mention (I'll mention) the whip having more screentime where it doesnt hit once you press the destroy foes button. So basically you're dead on arrival. Also, sometimes you get hit by a projectile thats been destroyed or a mf who already vaporized. Shit that should only happen in Mexico and I don't wager Simon is having his pilgrimage there.
I've warmed up, but huh no physical activity to follow because I need to say good things about this decent game. The night is dark and the path is.. not always clear, especially stage 17 with those gears but it all looks great. Dracula looks like his breath smells of garlic which makes me worry about his health being a vampire and all, but I won't judge him if he stepped out the hospital just to whoop my ass he's just that guy. Not gonna lie I had to use save states between every hit because I didn't trust myself enough and I was playing the game on break I wanted to finish it today at least (as in friday 22nd march, I'm actually reviewing it on the day I finish a game which I usually never do and condone! But we do this ig)
Let's breakdown how the game plays. There are no input cancels obviously this ain't no Tekken, once you jump you are vulnerable for around 1 second and to approximately 33 threats, you can only walk and slightly crouch, not to mention (I'll mention) the whip having more screentime where it doesnt hit once you press the destroy foes button. So basically you're dead on arrival. Also, sometimes you get hit by a projectile thats been destroyed or a mf who already vaporized. Shit that should only happen in Mexico and I don't wager Simon is having his pilgrimage there.
I've warmed up, but huh no physical activity to follow because I need to say good things about this decent game. The night is dark and the path is.. not always clear, especially stage 17 with those gears but it all looks great. Dracula looks like his breath smells of garlic which makes me worry about his health being a vampire and all, but I won't judge him if he stepped out the hospital just to whoop my ass he's just that guy. Not gonna lie I had to use save states between every hit because I didn't trust myself enough and I was playing the game on break I wanted to finish it today at least (as in friday 22nd march, I'm actually reviewing it on the day I finish a game which I usually never do and condone! But we do this ig)
Myst
1993
Behold, my 1500th video game! This special occasion warrants nothing less than a super special review. So, what did I think? Well first, some backstory.
This past year or 2, I've been obsessed with playing games that are considered foundational. Sometimes, I don't enjoy them but I'm still glad I played them for the historical value alone which has been the case for games such as Colossal Cave Adventure, Mystery House, or Portopia. Other times, I find some of my unexpected favourite games that are actually very fun such as Wizardry, Fantasy Zone, or... oh yeah, another game by Myst's developers called The Manhole!
When I played The Manhole and its 3D remake last year, I was very captivated! These are 2 games where there is no real objective but to take in the scenery. Just explore and find hilarious imagery while listening to wacky characters. No win condition, no lose condition, no timer, no stress. In a way, this is a really avant garde method of showing that video games are more than their title suggests. That being, they aren't just "games" played for the sake of winning but perhaps important pieces of art.
With how hyped up Myst has been over the years, I decided I would make it my 1500th game on Backloggd (Jesus I've been on this site for years) knowing that it would be something special and, well....
Look. I immensely respect what Myst is going for. I really love how inspired it is, and I am sure the pre-rendered graphics were mindblowing to 1993 audiences. It's neat how several of my beloved games such as Drowned God were blatantly inspired by it, and it's arguably the most important game in the last 30 or so years due to how it was the big boom for PC gaming the world needed.
Yet, I can't feel passionately about it the way I can with The Manhole or Wizardry or even the likes of Colossal Cave Adventure. It is hard for me to be captivated by Myst's legacy when many point and click/adventure games predate it and, in my opinion, have far better QOL, gameplay, and storytelling.
As far as point and click games from before 1993 go, I have a lot of favourites. Uninvited felt like a very kinetic and replayable game with a unique horror feel. Monkey Island 1-2 are still some of the most entertaining and hilarious games I've experienced, boasting incredible artstyles and early popularization of dynamic music. The Manhole, again, was one of the very first entertainment CD-roms and it's still rather fun. Alter Ego having barely any pictures and still being one of the most engaging, deeply written games I've experienced. Hell, when looking at niche Japanese games I'm impressed at how Cosmology of Kyoto, Otogirisou, or Ihatovo Monogatari managed to breathe new life into the game medium as a whole, displaying such artistry that even the likes of Roger Ebert were impressed.
All this is to say that I don't understand at all why Myst is often defended on the basis of "well it's a 30 year old game" especially when other point-and-clicks like Monkey Island before it are still popular today. Hell, Monkey Island is probably much more fun to revisit for the average player. Monkey Island doesn't receive memes like this, at least certainly not with any frequency https://pbs.twimg.com/media/E9tXrGBWYAYBtfc.png
When trying to wrap my head around what made Myst so popular beyond the graphics, I looked at the development history behind the game and found this https://youtu.be/EWX5B6cD4_4
Myst was meant to give players a bang for their buck, resulting in a design based around "brute force" real estate to explore. With no win or lose conditions, the player could feasibly spend weeks if not months on the game. And it doesn't stop there, there is what seems to be a deliberate lack of QOL.
I found myself constantly frustrated by Myst. The save feature restarts the player at the beginning of the area rather than saving their progress, contrary to other even older adventure games. Batteries near the dock drain rather fast and need to be constantly recharged. Activating the large tree elevator is an annoying process. The main character is too much of a moron to carry two pages at a time, so if the player wants to experience every FMV they are forced to go through the same area twice, some of which can be rather confusing to navigate. The sound puzzles where the player must match 5 different sound effects in a row with very large margin of error might as well just say "fuck the deaf and the tone deaf players" good lord. I personally felt the pace broken when 10 minutes into the game I was compelled to read 4 mini-novels in a row. And perhaps most importantly, I had trouble making out a single full sentence in the red and blue books due to the overloaded static noises in the cutscenes.
Are there things I appreciate about Myst? Sure! This is far from a game without merit. The minimalist presentation is rather beautiful, with the pre-rendered images and FMVs still holding their own against photorealistic graphics from far stronger hardware. The atmosphere can be rather immersive a lot of the time, with the sound effects being very convincing for every action in the game. I rec listening to this part of the Ars Technica documentary, since it explains things better than I could https://youtu.be/EWX5B6cD4_4?t=860
It's truly a technical engineering feat. Also, after the player obtains the true ending, they are allowed to just explore the island. It really gives me the impression their earlier work on The Manhole helped shape some decisions in this game, and that's just lovely.
Well, that's Myst. It's a technically impressive game, but far from a fun one in my opinion. It was only while writing this review that, perhaps, it hit me.
Everybody has their own unique perspective and experiences that shapes them into the EPIC GAMER they are today. I saved Myst for a rainy day, subconsciously putting it on a pedestal in my head. Most of the people who told me how much they loved Myst mentioned it being a formative artistic experience for them. Could it be because I had the liberty of playing so many untranslated JP adventure games, more modern adventure games, and so forth before Myst, its impact was lost on me?
1500 games is a lot of fucking games. There is an alternate universe out there where I was fascinated by Myst and fell in love with it, rather than found it frustrating in my mid 20s. In fact, this is what one of the developers theorized; only maybe half of players even left the first island. Yet, so many young players who discovered the game left with quite an impression, that they played something which resonated with them FOR the unfamiliar mystique, rather than despite it https://youtu.be/EWX5B6cD4_4?t=1070
When I started typing this review, I wasn't sure if I was happy I played Myst. Yet now, I feel confident I am happy it was my 1500th game. It was not a waste of time, but a good reminder of how games are more than what I play. They are artistic statements, impressive feats of software development, and parts of our culture. The cynic in me can say Myst is a subpar adventure game that only had any success due to the photorealistic graphics. Yet, I'm more inclined to ask one thing:
Is there any game which better embodies the culture of early PC gaming and the appeal of pre-rendered graphics?
God, I fucking love video games.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e49OXXBX3Ko
This past year or 2, I've been obsessed with playing games that are considered foundational. Sometimes, I don't enjoy them but I'm still glad I played them for the historical value alone which has been the case for games such as Colossal Cave Adventure, Mystery House, or Portopia. Other times, I find some of my unexpected favourite games that are actually very fun such as Wizardry, Fantasy Zone, or... oh yeah, another game by Myst's developers called The Manhole!
When I played The Manhole and its 3D remake last year, I was very captivated! These are 2 games where there is no real objective but to take in the scenery. Just explore and find hilarious imagery while listening to wacky characters. No win condition, no lose condition, no timer, no stress. In a way, this is a really avant garde method of showing that video games are more than their title suggests. That being, they aren't just "games" played for the sake of winning but perhaps important pieces of art.
With how hyped up Myst has been over the years, I decided I would make it my 1500th game on Backloggd (Jesus I've been on this site for years) knowing that it would be something special and, well....
Look. I immensely respect what Myst is going for. I really love how inspired it is, and I am sure the pre-rendered graphics were mindblowing to 1993 audiences. It's neat how several of my beloved games such as Drowned God were blatantly inspired by it, and it's arguably the most important game in the last 30 or so years due to how it was the big boom for PC gaming the world needed.
Yet, I can't feel passionately about it the way I can with The Manhole or Wizardry or even the likes of Colossal Cave Adventure. It is hard for me to be captivated by Myst's legacy when many point and click/adventure games predate it and, in my opinion, have far better QOL, gameplay, and storytelling.
As far as point and click games from before 1993 go, I have a lot of favourites. Uninvited felt like a very kinetic and replayable game with a unique horror feel. Monkey Island 1-2 are still some of the most entertaining and hilarious games I've experienced, boasting incredible artstyles and early popularization of dynamic music. The Manhole, again, was one of the very first entertainment CD-roms and it's still rather fun. Alter Ego having barely any pictures and still being one of the most engaging, deeply written games I've experienced. Hell, when looking at niche Japanese games I'm impressed at how Cosmology of Kyoto, Otogirisou, or Ihatovo Monogatari managed to breathe new life into the game medium as a whole, displaying such artistry that even the likes of Roger Ebert were impressed.
All this is to say that I don't understand at all why Myst is often defended on the basis of "well it's a 30 year old game" especially when other point-and-clicks like Monkey Island before it are still popular today. Hell, Monkey Island is probably much more fun to revisit for the average player. Monkey Island doesn't receive memes like this, at least certainly not with any frequency https://pbs.twimg.com/media/E9tXrGBWYAYBtfc.png
When trying to wrap my head around what made Myst so popular beyond the graphics, I looked at the development history behind the game and found this https://youtu.be/EWX5B6cD4_4
Myst was meant to give players a bang for their buck, resulting in a design based around "brute force" real estate to explore. With no win or lose conditions, the player could feasibly spend weeks if not months on the game. And it doesn't stop there, there is what seems to be a deliberate lack of QOL.
I found myself constantly frustrated by Myst. The save feature restarts the player at the beginning of the area rather than saving their progress, contrary to other even older adventure games. Batteries near the dock drain rather fast and need to be constantly recharged. Activating the large tree elevator is an annoying process. The main character is too much of a moron to carry two pages at a time, so if the player wants to experience every FMV they are forced to go through the same area twice, some of which can be rather confusing to navigate. The sound puzzles where the player must match 5 different sound effects in a row with very large margin of error might as well just say "fuck the deaf and the tone deaf players" good lord. I personally felt the pace broken when 10 minutes into the game I was compelled to read 4 mini-novels in a row. And perhaps most importantly, I had trouble making out a single full sentence in the red and blue books due to the overloaded static noises in the cutscenes.
Are there things I appreciate about Myst? Sure! This is far from a game without merit. The minimalist presentation is rather beautiful, with the pre-rendered images and FMVs still holding their own against photorealistic graphics from far stronger hardware. The atmosphere can be rather immersive a lot of the time, with the sound effects being very convincing for every action in the game. I rec listening to this part of the Ars Technica documentary, since it explains things better than I could https://youtu.be/EWX5B6cD4_4?t=860
It's truly a technical engineering feat. Also, after the player obtains the true ending, they are allowed to just explore the island. It really gives me the impression their earlier work on The Manhole helped shape some decisions in this game, and that's just lovely.
Well, that's Myst. It's a technically impressive game, but far from a fun one in my opinion. It was only while writing this review that, perhaps, it hit me.
Everybody has their own unique perspective and experiences that shapes them into the EPIC GAMER they are today. I saved Myst for a rainy day, subconsciously putting it on a pedestal in my head. Most of the people who told me how much they loved Myst mentioned it being a formative artistic experience for them. Could it be because I had the liberty of playing so many untranslated JP adventure games, more modern adventure games, and so forth before Myst, its impact was lost on me?
1500 games is a lot of fucking games. There is an alternate universe out there where I was fascinated by Myst and fell in love with it, rather than found it frustrating in my mid 20s. In fact, this is what one of the developers theorized; only maybe half of players even left the first island. Yet, so many young players who discovered the game left with quite an impression, that they played something which resonated with them FOR the unfamiliar mystique, rather than despite it https://youtu.be/EWX5B6cD4_4?t=1070
When I started typing this review, I wasn't sure if I was happy I played Myst. Yet now, I feel confident I am happy it was my 1500th game. It was not a waste of time, but a good reminder of how games are more than what I play. They are artistic statements, impressive feats of software development, and parts of our culture. The cynic in me can say Myst is a subpar adventure game that only had any success due to the photorealistic graphics. Yet, I'm more inclined to ask one thing:
Is there any game which better embodies the culture of early PC gaming and the appeal of pre-rendered graphics?
God, I fucking love video games.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e49OXXBX3Ko
I never thought starting this year that by the end of April I would have finally played all 4 of the original classic Phantasy Star games. They have been on my bucket list for years and the experience has been a mixture of surprises and Phantasy Star IV: The End of the Millennium is no exception.
To start with I really want to get this out the way that this game is by far the best of the 4 games. It takes all the good parts of Phantasy Star II and builds on them in all the right aspects while still linking the story of every game in the series together. It really feels like it ties the plot up for all of them while still being able to play it on it's own. It's an incredibly well made experience with a couple of aspects that really stood out in particular.
Story wise the game takes place 1000 years before Phantasy Star III and 1000 years after Phantasy Star II which in turn was 1000 years after Phantasy Star I. We are once again in the Algol star system following mercenary hunters Alys Brangwin and her apprentice Chaz Ashley on planet Motavia. They have been hired to take care of some monsters that lead them on a steadily longer world saving adventure than they could have anticipated. The writing and story of Phantasy Star IV is a massive increase in quality over it's predecessors with full comic like panel cutscenes, genuinely funny jokes, facial expressions and stand out personalities making the story moments actually a delight rather than simply a cardboard set of instructions for the next location. This was such a pleasant realisation within less than 10 minutes of starting that this was going to be a much different experience than I initially thought.
The game moves at a fast pace generally and while certainly not linear I would say it seems very focused so it's quite clear in most cases where to go but still plenty of space for side exploring and without being super grindy. The combat is still turn based and the dungeons are third person. The most interesting thing about the combat is how kind of insanely ahead of it's time it feels. Though it has the basics of the genre in that you can attack, use magic and items it also lets you can set up macros from a list prior to fights. These serve as pre selected moves for your whole party for that turn. For example I had 'macro A' set up as my opening gambit to cast buffs for defence, attack, speed up and a strong attack spell so I didn't have to manually select them each time with 'macro B' as all attack, C as spells etc. Certain combinations of spells or skills would also unlock extremely strong special attacks like a combo though you would have to experiment or look them up to know what they are and set them off in the right turn order uninterrupted.
Another stand out feature I didn't expect is the game also has a hunt system at the guild so at this point I am really feeling like Final Fantasy XII took the gambit system, hunt system and Star Wars influences entirely from Phantasy Star IV... It's obviously more limited here to only a dozen or so and are essentially side quests you (sometimes) get rewards for but with the improved dialogue, characters and towns it all comes together to make the game and world feel very alive for a title in this era.
Visually it's colourful and crisp and the aforementioned anime scenes are fantastic. I love the art style and designs that Phantasy Star II really solidified for the series. I've generally enjoyed all the music in the games so far but like everything it feels like Phantasy Star IV just cranks it up to eleven with every track creating this crunchy electronic bass the megadrive was so good at. There is even a great Phantasy Star 1 remix as part of the OST.
Honestly I really loved Phantasy Star IV and it is easily in my top games to recommend for the megadrive for it's pacing, production values, compact design and scenes but there is one thing that does hold it back from a five star award from me. It goes through party members at such an insane pace it's a bit strange with characters constantly coming and going sometimes within the space of a dungeon or two. They were often the ones I liked most leaving me consistently with Chaz who, and let's be polite to him, is an unlikeable idiot. It is however only a small nit-pick really in an otherwise fantastic RPG I would recommend.
+ Anime scenes and dialogue make the game feel slick with personality.
+ Macros are such a great feature for setting up combat instructions in a seamless way.
+ Music is fire.
- Going through party members like disposable cutlery with the story pacing.
To start with I really want to get this out the way that this game is by far the best of the 4 games. It takes all the good parts of Phantasy Star II and builds on them in all the right aspects while still linking the story of every game in the series together. It really feels like it ties the plot up for all of them while still being able to play it on it's own. It's an incredibly well made experience with a couple of aspects that really stood out in particular.
Story wise the game takes place 1000 years before Phantasy Star III and 1000 years after Phantasy Star II which in turn was 1000 years after Phantasy Star I. We are once again in the Algol star system following mercenary hunters Alys Brangwin and her apprentice Chaz Ashley on planet Motavia. They have been hired to take care of some monsters that lead them on a steadily longer world saving adventure than they could have anticipated. The writing and story of Phantasy Star IV is a massive increase in quality over it's predecessors with full comic like panel cutscenes, genuinely funny jokes, facial expressions and stand out personalities making the story moments actually a delight rather than simply a cardboard set of instructions for the next location. This was such a pleasant realisation within less than 10 minutes of starting that this was going to be a much different experience than I initially thought.
The game moves at a fast pace generally and while certainly not linear I would say it seems very focused so it's quite clear in most cases where to go but still plenty of space for side exploring and without being super grindy. The combat is still turn based and the dungeons are third person. The most interesting thing about the combat is how kind of insanely ahead of it's time it feels. Though it has the basics of the genre in that you can attack, use magic and items it also lets you can set up macros from a list prior to fights. These serve as pre selected moves for your whole party for that turn. For example I had 'macro A' set up as my opening gambit to cast buffs for defence, attack, speed up and a strong attack spell so I didn't have to manually select them each time with 'macro B' as all attack, C as spells etc. Certain combinations of spells or skills would also unlock extremely strong special attacks like a combo though you would have to experiment or look them up to know what they are and set them off in the right turn order uninterrupted.
Another stand out feature I didn't expect is the game also has a hunt system at the guild so at this point I am really feeling like Final Fantasy XII took the gambit system, hunt system and Star Wars influences entirely from Phantasy Star IV... It's obviously more limited here to only a dozen or so and are essentially side quests you (sometimes) get rewards for but with the improved dialogue, characters and towns it all comes together to make the game and world feel very alive for a title in this era.
Visually it's colourful and crisp and the aforementioned anime scenes are fantastic. I love the art style and designs that Phantasy Star II really solidified for the series. I've generally enjoyed all the music in the games so far but like everything it feels like Phantasy Star IV just cranks it up to eleven with every track creating this crunchy electronic bass the megadrive was so good at. There is even a great Phantasy Star 1 remix as part of the OST.
Honestly I really loved Phantasy Star IV and it is easily in my top games to recommend for the megadrive for it's pacing, production values, compact design and scenes but there is one thing that does hold it back from a five star award from me. It goes through party members at such an insane pace it's a bit strange with characters constantly coming and going sometimes within the space of a dungeon or two. They were often the ones I liked most leaving me consistently with Chaz who, and let's be polite to him, is an unlikeable idiot. It is however only a small nit-pick really in an otherwise fantastic RPG I would recommend.
+ Anime scenes and dialogue make the game feel slick with personality.
+ Macros are such a great feature for setting up combat instructions in a seamless way.
+ Music is fire.
- Going through party members like disposable cutlery with the story pacing.
Dragon Warrior III
1988
A fantastic continuation of the first 2 Dragon Quest games with how it not only expands into new ideas, but refines the pre-existing ones into something far more compelling, culminating in an experience that feels far more grandiose and finely tuned. The sense of player hostility that the first 2 games revelled in remains a constant here but is shifted in such a way to make it fit the narrative of DQ3 more cleanly. Structural changes with how the player progresses further contribute to the game feeling far bigger and more richly detailed, demonstrating more than just escalating difficulty as a means of engaging the player. Rather than a world wrought with hopelessness that has already accepted its fate, Dragon Quest 3 revolves around the birth of a legend and their rise to this status, with a level of power fitting of being perceived as such.
The game still remains quite challenging, but the player is also provided with enough tools to comfortably overcome all opposition with relative ease, as long as they know what they’re doing, both due to the mechanics feeling more evenly balanced to make turns where the enemy is capable of party wiping far more infrequent, but also by making your entire party actually have the capabilities of effectively helping out in a fight. Dragon Quest 2’s party was comprised entirely of characters that would rigidly conform to their roles without any flexibility to accommodate to situations that deviated from their main skillset, which led to a dynamic that often would only allow one character at a time to meaningfully contribute to a situation, and this rigidity was the most transformative element of the game that was altered to make Dragon Quest 3 feel more balanced in the player’s favour. The way that the increased party flexibility is limited is what makes the game especially intriguing however, as hitting the point where this all becomes relevant takes time and careful planning. At their base level, classes still largely fit into specific niches, but have been given tools to allow them to contribute to a wider variety of obstacles, with healers having enough physical attack to let them still deal serviceable damage in the early game, and wizards having access to certain buffing spells, so even if you’re up against something that resists magic, they can make your attackers stronger instead of being dead weight.
This alone is already enough to make the moment-to-moment decision making feel more dynamic, but it’s the ability to change classes later on that really elevates this decision making process by giving the player a lot of agency in how they want to approach immediate situations while also planning for the future. The system essentially lets you change character classes while allowing that character to retain traits of what they previously were, leading to situations such as warriors that are able to cast spells, or healers that have more bulk to them than average. This mainly is used to bring more versatility to a team while still allowing them to be total powerhouses in other areas, and while not strictly necessary, it makes the 2nd half of the game considerably easier when you’ve got your army of physical attackers also blasting your enemies with huge group magic damage or keeping everyone topped up on HP, feeling like you’ve become a truly formidable party by the end, rather than perpetually feeling on the brink of death. I don’t really prefer one approach over the other in this case, since both are handled so well, but it’s an interesting difference to note.
The ability to become so much more inherently powerful also does wonders for the game’s pacing, as while there is still some degree of grinding (it’s an NES RPG, so of course there would be), it’s infrequent enough that it won’t completely halt the pacing outside of a few key moments that warranted things being more challenging to truly feel climactic enough. The other aspect of the game that makes everything feel as if it’s moving along at a more typical pace is how the storytelling no longer solely revolves around the heroes trying to track down a single antagonist with everything else being there to propel this one goal forward. A lot of towns have their own plotlines that you have to become involved in now, and while most of them result in you gaining another key item to continue pursuing Baramos, the main villain of the game, the plotlines themselves often have little to do with him beyond the towns potentially feeling threatened about the prospect of being destroyed. The world feels far more richly detailed as a result of this decision, being more akin to actual towns in a world rather than just a tool for the player to use and pass through in their singular quest. The game does a far better job of properly orienting the player in the world as well, not just with Zoom now actually letting you to choose where you warp, cutting down on a lot of tedious backtracking, but more regularly pointing you in directions you could potentially go, dodging the aimlessness of DQ2 by giving you a lot of direction. The aforementioned changes in how different locations have been written also make the orb hunt a far more enjoyable process than it could’ve been, especially since most of them are either tied to their own little narratives, or feel climactic to grab in their own right, making them feel more rewarding to pick up instead of just thinking “yeah that was just on the ground, ok next one.”
I can see why Dragon Quest 3 is often considered to be the first great game in the series, as for as much as I appreciate the charming simplicity of the first game, this takes a lot of the same framework and expands upon it in ways that make it feel utterly massive for the system. The entire final act is also fantastic in how it’s able to recontextualise a lot of pre-existing elements in ways that make it feel entirely new, yet familiar. Playing the NES of this is what truly got me to appreciate just how cool this game was for its time, even though I already thoroughly enjoyed it beforehand, and while the SNES version is definitely still the one I’d return to if I decided to play this again in the future, there’s something incredibly cool about seeing this game in its roughest, most unforgiving form as well.
The game still remains quite challenging, but the player is also provided with enough tools to comfortably overcome all opposition with relative ease, as long as they know what they’re doing, both due to the mechanics feeling more evenly balanced to make turns where the enemy is capable of party wiping far more infrequent, but also by making your entire party actually have the capabilities of effectively helping out in a fight. Dragon Quest 2’s party was comprised entirely of characters that would rigidly conform to their roles without any flexibility to accommodate to situations that deviated from their main skillset, which led to a dynamic that often would only allow one character at a time to meaningfully contribute to a situation, and this rigidity was the most transformative element of the game that was altered to make Dragon Quest 3 feel more balanced in the player’s favour. The way that the increased party flexibility is limited is what makes the game especially intriguing however, as hitting the point where this all becomes relevant takes time and careful planning. At their base level, classes still largely fit into specific niches, but have been given tools to allow them to contribute to a wider variety of obstacles, with healers having enough physical attack to let them still deal serviceable damage in the early game, and wizards having access to certain buffing spells, so even if you’re up against something that resists magic, they can make your attackers stronger instead of being dead weight.
This alone is already enough to make the moment-to-moment decision making feel more dynamic, but it’s the ability to change classes later on that really elevates this decision making process by giving the player a lot of agency in how they want to approach immediate situations while also planning for the future. The system essentially lets you change character classes while allowing that character to retain traits of what they previously were, leading to situations such as warriors that are able to cast spells, or healers that have more bulk to them than average. This mainly is used to bring more versatility to a team while still allowing them to be total powerhouses in other areas, and while not strictly necessary, it makes the 2nd half of the game considerably easier when you’ve got your army of physical attackers also blasting your enemies with huge group magic damage or keeping everyone topped up on HP, feeling like you’ve become a truly formidable party by the end, rather than perpetually feeling on the brink of death. I don’t really prefer one approach over the other in this case, since both are handled so well, but it’s an interesting difference to note.
The ability to become so much more inherently powerful also does wonders for the game’s pacing, as while there is still some degree of grinding (it’s an NES RPG, so of course there would be), it’s infrequent enough that it won’t completely halt the pacing outside of a few key moments that warranted things being more challenging to truly feel climactic enough. The other aspect of the game that makes everything feel as if it’s moving along at a more typical pace is how the storytelling no longer solely revolves around the heroes trying to track down a single antagonist with everything else being there to propel this one goal forward. A lot of towns have their own plotlines that you have to become involved in now, and while most of them result in you gaining another key item to continue pursuing Baramos, the main villain of the game, the plotlines themselves often have little to do with him beyond the towns potentially feeling threatened about the prospect of being destroyed. The world feels far more richly detailed as a result of this decision, being more akin to actual towns in a world rather than just a tool for the player to use and pass through in their singular quest. The game does a far better job of properly orienting the player in the world as well, not just with Zoom now actually letting you to choose where you warp, cutting down on a lot of tedious backtracking, but more regularly pointing you in directions you could potentially go, dodging the aimlessness of DQ2 by giving you a lot of direction. The aforementioned changes in how different locations have been written also make the orb hunt a far more enjoyable process than it could’ve been, especially since most of them are either tied to their own little narratives, or feel climactic to grab in their own right, making them feel more rewarding to pick up instead of just thinking “yeah that was just on the ground, ok next one.”
I can see why Dragon Quest 3 is often considered to be the first great game in the series, as for as much as I appreciate the charming simplicity of the first game, this takes a lot of the same framework and expands upon it in ways that make it feel utterly massive for the system. The entire final act is also fantastic in how it’s able to recontextualise a lot of pre-existing elements in ways that make it feel entirely new, yet familiar. Playing the NES of this is what truly got me to appreciate just how cool this game was for its time, even though I already thoroughly enjoyed it beforehand, and while the SNES version is definitely still the one I’d return to if I decided to play this again in the future, there’s something incredibly cool about seeing this game in its roughest, most unforgiving form as well.
Mario Kart 64
1996
Going back to this game and realizing just how weak the drift boosting feels in comparison to later entries is its own form of whiplash. Well, there's that, and honestly one of the weakest Rainbow Road courses out there. It sure is a road, alright!
But I like Mario Kart 64 all the same. The combination of pre-rendered drivers and low poly 3D graphics has its own appeal, and there's more than a couple race tracks that have set a precedent for the rest of the series. You got your first major city stage in here, an Excitebike-like stadium full of bumpy roads... the desert level with the train is pretty fun to me, especially in those moments where you manage to just barely get past the train, while everyone else has to wait for it to pass by. Sherbet Land's probably my favorite stage, I dunno why. Could just be that the music is nostalgic, but I also just like winter-themed settings in general.
I don't revisit this game often, as it feels like you can quickly get all the mileage you need out of it within an hour or two. But it'd be nice to play it with a couple friends sometime, even if there's technically better options for a Mario Kart experience out there. I guess that's probably 64's biggest problem, isn't it? It's not a bad game by any means, it was just made obsolete the moment later Mario Kart entries started adding past courses into their selection. Now, you can experience them at 60fps, with remade graphics, and with better controls. That just leaves Mario Kart 64 to sit in a corner, saddened and forgotten. But at least I'm still here. It doesn't have to be THAT lonely. Anyway, see you in 5 years!
But I like Mario Kart 64 all the same. The combination of pre-rendered drivers and low poly 3D graphics has its own appeal, and there's more than a couple race tracks that have set a precedent for the rest of the series. You got your first major city stage in here, an Excitebike-like stadium full of bumpy roads... the desert level with the train is pretty fun to me, especially in those moments where you manage to just barely get past the train, while everyone else has to wait for it to pass by. Sherbet Land's probably my favorite stage, I dunno why. Could just be that the music is nostalgic, but I also just like winter-themed settings in general.
I don't revisit this game often, as it feels like you can quickly get all the mileage you need out of it within an hour or two. But it'd be nice to play it with a couple friends sometime, even if there's technically better options for a Mario Kart experience out there. I guess that's probably 64's biggest problem, isn't it? It's not a bad game by any means, it was just made obsolete the moment later Mario Kart entries started adding past courses into their selection. Now, you can experience them at 60fps, with remade graphics, and with better controls. That just leaves Mario Kart 64 to sit in a corner, saddened and forgotten. But at least I'm still here. It doesn't have to be THAT lonely. Anyway, see you in 5 years!
Ico
2012
Ico is the type of game I dread to play, critically acclaimed, landmark classic of the medium, influenced various games and designers I love. I dread playing those because of a fear I have, a fear that's come true : I don't like ICO, in fact, I think I might hate ICO. And now I will have to carry that like a millstone around my neck, "that asshole who doesn't like ICO". Its not even really that external disapproval I dread, its the very reputation that causes me to second guess my own sincerely held opinions. I thought I liked minimalism in game design, and cut-scene light storytelling and relationships explored through mechanics but I guess I don't. There's some kinda dissonance, cognitive or otherwise reading reviews by friends and writers I respect and wondering if there's something wrong with me or if I didnt get it or played it wrong or any other similar foolishness that gets bandied around in Internet discussions. "I wish we could have played the same game" I think, reading my mutuals' reviews of ICO. Not in a dismissive asshole way of accusing them of having a warped perception, but moreso in frustration that I didnt have the experience that has clearly touched them and countless others.
But enough feeling sorry for myself/being insecure, what is my problem with ICO exactly? I don't really know. Genuinely. I wasnt even planning on writing a review originally because all it would come down to as my original unfiltered reaction would be "Playing it made me miserable". Thankfully the upside of minimalism in game design is that its easier to identify which elements didnt work for me because there are few in the game. I think the people who got the most out of ICO developed some kind of emotional connection to Yorda, and thats one aspect which absolutely didn't work for me. As nakedly "gamey" and transparently artificial as Fallout New Vegas' NPCs (and Skyrim and F3 etc) locking the camera to have a dialogue tree, they read to me as infinitely more human than the more realistic Yorda; for a few reasons. Chief among them is that despite some hiccups and bugs the game is known for, you are not asked to manage them as a gameplay mechanic beyond your companions and well, my main interaction with Yorda was holding down R1 to repeatedly yell "ONG VA!" so she'd climb down the fucking ladder. She'd climb down, get halfway through and then decide this was a bad idea and ascend again.
ICO has been to me a game of all these little frustrations piling up. Due to the nature of the puzzles and platforming, failing them was aggravating and solving them first try was merely unremarkable. It makes me question again, what is the value of minimalism genuinely? There was a point at which I had to use a chain to jump across a gap and I couldnt quite make it, I thought "well, maybe theres a way to jump farther" and started pressing buttons randomly until the circle button achieved the result of letting me use momentum to swing accross. Now, if instead a non-diegetic diagram of the face buttons had shown up on the HUD instead what would have been lost? To me, very little. Sure, excessive direction can be annoying and take me out of the game, but pressing buttons randomly did the same, personally. Nor did "figuring it out for myself" feel particularly fulfilling. Thats again what I meant, victories are unremarkable and failures are frustrating. The same can be said for the combat which, honestly I liked at first. I liked how clumsy and childish the stick flailing fighting style was, but ultimately it involved hitting the enemies over and over and over and over again until they stopped spawning. Thankfully you can run away at times and rush to the exit to make the enemies blow up but the game's habit of spawning them when you're far from Yorda or maybe when she's on a different platform meant that I had to rely on her stupid pathfinding to quickly respond (which is just not going to happen, she needs like 3 business days to execute the same thing we've done 5k times already, I guess the language barrier applies to pattern recognition as well somehow) and when it inevitably failed I would have to jump down and mash square until they fucked off.
I can see the argument that this is meant to be disempowering somehow but I don't really buy it. Your strikes knock these fuckers down well enough, they just keep getting back up. Ico isnt strong, he shouldnt be able to smite these wizard of oz monkeys with a single swing, but then why can they do no damage to ICO and get knocked down flat with a couple swings? Either they are weak as hell but keep getting remotely CPRd by the antagonist or they're strong but have really poor balance. In the end, all I could really feel from ICO was being miserable. I finished the game in 5 hours but it felt twice that. All I can think of now is that Im glad its done and I can tick it off the bucket list. I am now dreading playing shadow of the colossus even harder, and I don't think I ever want to play The Last Guardian, it just looks like ICO but even more miserable. I'm sure I've outed myself as an uncultured swine who didnt get the genius of the experience and will lose all my followers but I'm too deflated to care. If there is one positive to this experience is that I kept procrastinating on finishing the game that I got back into reading. I read The Name of the Rose and Rumble Fish, pretty good reads. Im going to read Winesburg Ohio next I think.
But enough feeling sorry for myself/being insecure, what is my problem with ICO exactly? I don't really know. Genuinely. I wasnt even planning on writing a review originally because all it would come down to as my original unfiltered reaction would be "Playing it made me miserable". Thankfully the upside of minimalism in game design is that its easier to identify which elements didnt work for me because there are few in the game. I think the people who got the most out of ICO developed some kind of emotional connection to Yorda, and thats one aspect which absolutely didn't work for me. As nakedly "gamey" and transparently artificial as Fallout New Vegas' NPCs (and Skyrim and F3 etc) locking the camera to have a dialogue tree, they read to me as infinitely more human than the more realistic Yorda; for a few reasons. Chief among them is that despite some hiccups and bugs the game is known for, you are not asked to manage them as a gameplay mechanic beyond your companions and well, my main interaction with Yorda was holding down R1 to repeatedly yell "ONG VA!" so she'd climb down the fucking ladder. She'd climb down, get halfway through and then decide this was a bad idea and ascend again.
ICO has been to me a game of all these little frustrations piling up. Due to the nature of the puzzles and platforming, failing them was aggravating and solving them first try was merely unremarkable. It makes me question again, what is the value of minimalism genuinely? There was a point at which I had to use a chain to jump across a gap and I couldnt quite make it, I thought "well, maybe theres a way to jump farther" and started pressing buttons randomly until the circle button achieved the result of letting me use momentum to swing accross. Now, if instead a non-diegetic diagram of the face buttons had shown up on the HUD instead what would have been lost? To me, very little. Sure, excessive direction can be annoying and take me out of the game, but pressing buttons randomly did the same, personally. Nor did "figuring it out for myself" feel particularly fulfilling. Thats again what I meant, victories are unremarkable and failures are frustrating. The same can be said for the combat which, honestly I liked at first. I liked how clumsy and childish the stick flailing fighting style was, but ultimately it involved hitting the enemies over and over and over and over again until they stopped spawning. Thankfully you can run away at times and rush to the exit to make the enemies blow up but the game's habit of spawning them when you're far from Yorda or maybe when she's on a different platform meant that I had to rely on her stupid pathfinding to quickly respond (which is just not going to happen, she needs like 3 business days to execute the same thing we've done 5k times already, I guess the language barrier applies to pattern recognition as well somehow) and when it inevitably failed I would have to jump down and mash square until they fucked off.
I can see the argument that this is meant to be disempowering somehow but I don't really buy it. Your strikes knock these fuckers down well enough, they just keep getting back up. Ico isnt strong, he shouldnt be able to smite these wizard of oz monkeys with a single swing, but then why can they do no damage to ICO and get knocked down flat with a couple swings? Either they are weak as hell but keep getting remotely CPRd by the antagonist or they're strong but have really poor balance. In the end, all I could really feel from ICO was being miserable. I finished the game in 5 hours but it felt twice that. All I can think of now is that Im glad its done and I can tick it off the bucket list. I am now dreading playing shadow of the colossus even harder, and I don't think I ever want to play The Last Guardian, it just looks like ICO but even more miserable. I'm sure I've outed myself as an uncultured swine who didnt get the genius of the experience and will lose all my followers but I'm too deflated to care. If there is one positive to this experience is that I kept procrastinating on finishing the game that I got back into reading. I read The Name of the Rose and Rumble Fish, pretty good reads. Im going to read Winesburg Ohio next I think.
Final Fantasy IV
1997
After sinking more than a hundred hours into Rebirth, I know the last thing I should do is try to bite off more Final Fantasy. I've already had too much, I'm bloated on chocobos and moogles and nearly ready to burst, and yet I've been eyeballing Final Fantasy IV and thinking "I can handle it." Comparatively speaking, 23 hours of gameplay is light, downright brisk. Rebirth's after dinner mint... Why shouldn't I indulge?
Well, back-to-back negative reviews from mutuals - both of which abandoned the game - should be reason enough for me to pass, at least for the time being.
It's so over.
Or is it? I'm Weatherby, when have I ever listened to anyone about how bad a game might be? Especially for a game I already paid my money for. The cellophane on this unopened Final Fantasy Chronicles is coming off, baby!
We're so back!
It's probably worth pointing out up front that by going with the Chronicles version of the game, I am effectively playing the real Final Fantasy IV, which originally released stateside on the SNES as a port of Japan's easy mode. For babies. I'm not a baby, how hard can this version of the game be?
Turns out very, at least in fits and bursts. Final Fantasy IV is a very inconsistent game in a lot of ways, and I think a lot of this inconsistency is born from the unique space it occupies in the overarching trajectory of the franchise. The SNES allowed Square to do so much more than what they previously accomplished with the NES trilogy, especially in regard to story, but a lot of FFIV's mechanical features feel as though the game has one foot firmly rooted a generation behind. Things like a highly restrictive inventory is just unnecessary thanks to the SNES' expanded memory space, and the encounter rate is just as bonkers as it was on the NES, sometimes sending you from one daunting battle to the next with only a mere tile separating them.
Guest characters, something Final Fantasy II leaned on with its rotating fourth party slot, are commonplace in the early half of FFIV, and a some of them feel more like a hindrance, resulting in a lot of stretches where you need to nanny idiots like Edward, who has no useful abilities, low health, and straight up runs off screen when you try to heal him up. Likewise, you'll occasionally be gifted with guest characters that are too good, creating this pendulum swing of the game being "too annoying" and "too easy."
This combination of antiquated design elements and inconsistent party composition makes the early game a drag, and it's no wonder I ditched the GBA version around Mt. Ordeals back when I originally played it in 2005.
It's so over.
Final Fantasy IV's story also struggles in the early half of the game and spends a bit too long meandering around. It is interesting to play this right off the heels of Final Fantasy III as both games feature numerous character sacrifices, though the greater scope of FFIV means you'll get to spend more time with them rather than coming upon each character briefly before they like, chuck themselves into a furnace or whatever. Each death feels meaningful, which is why it's a bit upsetting that FFIV walks back most of them, sheepishly shrugging and going "I don't know, they lived I guess."
Thankfully, both the story and gameplay eventually find their focus, and once FFIV dials things in, I found that I was starting to have a really good time with the game. Turns out a stable party of well-rounded characters who share a clear and common goal is just what you need to get me invested, even if it may not address every single problem I had with the game up to that point.
By the time the party awakens the Lunar Whale and takes a trip up to the god damned moon, I was fully in it, and I loved the way the game handles the reveal of its true antagonist, Zeromus, who is less a singular consciousness driven by focused malice and more representative of the game's greater themes concerning good and evil, its presence in all men, and the cyclical nature of war and peace. I am a noted Necron defender, so the idea that the party has to do battle with something more representative of a thought or manifestation of man's own nature is my kind of thing.
Also, he's got a sick battle theme.
We're so back
Unfortunately, actually fighting Zeromus is another matter entirely. I thought the Cloud of Darkness was a motherfucker, but this might be the most I've struggled with a final boss in any Final Fantasy game. Apparently this guy can cast Meteo, Holy, Bio, AND Flare, but you'd never know it because he spends 90% of the fight spamming Big Bang over and over again. The solution here is to let Rydia stay dead as all of her spells will result in an immediate counterattack that operates separately from the fixed timer that dictates Big Bang. This also buys you better healing as Rosa only has to split Curaja between four characters instead of five. At the 11th hour, Final Fantasy IV deigned it necessary to saddle me with more dead weight, and the constant run back through several floors with high encounter rates and ~ten minutes of mashing through mandatory dialog is a steep price for failure, which unfortunately sucked a lot of the wind out from Final Fantasy IV's ending.
it's so over. literally, i am done playing this video game
Rating games in a series can be a little tricky, but I think I've more or less settled on a curve when it comes to Final Fantasy. I gave the original game a 3.5/5, which seems a bit high when you consider how approachable, engaging, and bombastic later titles are. All qualities I would assign to FFIV even if I think it spends a little too much time playing around in the protoplasmic puddle left behind by the previous three entries. That's why it's simultaneously the easiest of these four for me to sit down with, yet it's also a 3/5.
Maybe one day I'll check out the SNES version. I am genuinely curious if the easier difficulty curve results in a more evenly paced game, or if it simply makes combat dull and predictable.
Anyway, the next game has a protagonist name Butz. We're so back.
Well, back-to-back negative reviews from mutuals - both of which abandoned the game - should be reason enough for me to pass, at least for the time being.
It's so over.
Or is it? I'm Weatherby, when have I ever listened to anyone about how bad a game might be? Especially for a game I already paid my money for. The cellophane on this unopened Final Fantasy Chronicles is coming off, baby!
We're so back!
It's probably worth pointing out up front that by going with the Chronicles version of the game, I am effectively playing the real Final Fantasy IV, which originally released stateside on the SNES as a port of Japan's easy mode. For babies. I'm not a baby, how hard can this version of the game be?
Turns out very, at least in fits and bursts. Final Fantasy IV is a very inconsistent game in a lot of ways, and I think a lot of this inconsistency is born from the unique space it occupies in the overarching trajectory of the franchise. The SNES allowed Square to do so much more than what they previously accomplished with the NES trilogy, especially in regard to story, but a lot of FFIV's mechanical features feel as though the game has one foot firmly rooted a generation behind. Things like a highly restrictive inventory is just unnecessary thanks to the SNES' expanded memory space, and the encounter rate is just as bonkers as it was on the NES, sometimes sending you from one daunting battle to the next with only a mere tile separating them.
Guest characters, something Final Fantasy II leaned on with its rotating fourth party slot, are commonplace in the early half of FFIV, and a some of them feel more like a hindrance, resulting in a lot of stretches where you need to nanny idiots like Edward, who has no useful abilities, low health, and straight up runs off screen when you try to heal him up. Likewise, you'll occasionally be gifted with guest characters that are too good, creating this pendulum swing of the game being "too annoying" and "too easy."
This combination of antiquated design elements and inconsistent party composition makes the early game a drag, and it's no wonder I ditched the GBA version around Mt. Ordeals back when I originally played it in 2005.
It's so over.
Final Fantasy IV's story also struggles in the early half of the game and spends a bit too long meandering around. It is interesting to play this right off the heels of Final Fantasy III as both games feature numerous character sacrifices, though the greater scope of FFIV means you'll get to spend more time with them rather than coming upon each character briefly before they like, chuck themselves into a furnace or whatever. Each death feels meaningful, which is why it's a bit upsetting that FFIV walks back most of them, sheepishly shrugging and going "I don't know, they lived I guess."
Thankfully, both the story and gameplay eventually find their focus, and once FFIV dials things in, I found that I was starting to have a really good time with the game. Turns out a stable party of well-rounded characters who share a clear and common goal is just what you need to get me invested, even if it may not address every single problem I had with the game up to that point.
By the time the party awakens the Lunar Whale and takes a trip up to the god damned moon, I was fully in it, and I loved the way the game handles the reveal of its true antagonist, Zeromus, who is less a singular consciousness driven by focused malice and more representative of the game's greater themes concerning good and evil, its presence in all men, and the cyclical nature of war and peace. I am a noted Necron defender, so the idea that the party has to do battle with something more representative of a thought or manifestation of man's own nature is my kind of thing.
Also, he's got a sick battle theme.
We're so back
Unfortunately, actually fighting Zeromus is another matter entirely. I thought the Cloud of Darkness was a motherfucker, but this might be the most I've struggled with a final boss in any Final Fantasy game. Apparently this guy can cast Meteo, Holy, Bio, AND Flare, but you'd never know it because he spends 90% of the fight spamming Big Bang over and over again. The solution here is to let Rydia stay dead as all of her spells will result in an immediate counterattack that operates separately from the fixed timer that dictates Big Bang. This also buys you better healing as Rosa only has to split Curaja between four characters instead of five. At the 11th hour, Final Fantasy IV deigned it necessary to saddle me with more dead weight, and the constant run back through several floors with high encounter rates and ~ten minutes of mashing through mandatory dialog is a steep price for failure, which unfortunately sucked a lot of the wind out from Final Fantasy IV's ending.
it's so over. literally, i am done playing this video game
Rating games in a series can be a little tricky, but I think I've more or less settled on a curve when it comes to Final Fantasy. I gave the original game a 3.5/5, which seems a bit high when you consider how approachable, engaging, and bombastic later titles are. All qualities I would assign to FFIV even if I think it spends a little too much time playing around in the protoplasmic puddle left behind by the previous three entries. That's why it's simultaneously the easiest of these four for me to sit down with, yet it's also a 3/5.
Maybe one day I'll check out the SNES version. I am genuinely curious if the easier difficulty curve results in a more evenly paced game, or if it simply makes combat dull and predictable.
Anyway, the next game has a protagonist name Butz. We're so back.
Dragon Warrior II
1987
The unflinching hostility of this game became a more prominent aspect of the experience on this 2nd playthrough that I did on the NES version instead of the SNES one. Dragon Quest 2 is already somewhat notorious for being the most unforgiving game in the series, but the way that this is handled is interesting to give some deeper consideration to. The original Dragon Quest game presented a harsh world that could coldly kill you in mere seconds if you were unprepared, forcing you to carefully make your way through, with each new area being a risk that you could only overcome if you had sufficiently powered up enough. While Dragon Quest 2 is similar to this, it has the one key difference of often feeling as if it doesn’t even want the player to succeed, instead being content with repeatedly beating you to death no matter what you’re doing.
The game leans into this difficulty to effectively reinforce its tone, with its sense of hopelessness pervading each town you visit. The threat against the world feels so much scarier without the underlying optimism and belief that the legendary hero will be able to save the world, everyone is despondent, there are Kings that have hidden themselves away from the shame of being unable to do anything to stand up to Hargon, and any attempt at stopping the evil priest’s reign seem so out of reach. I don’t blame everyone for feeling so hopeless in the face of these threats either, because there’s very little working in favour of the player. While the combat system evolving to give the player a party and have battles move away from pure 1 on 1 encounters would seemingly make things easier, giving way to a wider range of strategies to employ and giving the enemies multiple targets to make it harder for the stunlocking nonsense of DQ1 to happen, the encounters are just, so much scarier for the most part. While your party caps out at 3 members, there can be up to 5 dangerous enemies that jump you at once, usually having spells that will damage your entire party, forcing you to divert a lot of your attack power into healing everyone back up before you can strike again. Adding to the problem is that your other party members completely suck, being extremely frail and mostly specialising in magic in a game that makes most spells entirely obsolete by the endgame. It hits a point where the other 2 members do such little damage that the optimal strategy is genuinely to just attack with your main character, and make the other 2 people block every turn unless they outright are required to cast a spell.
This reaches its peak in the last stretch of the game, where every fibre of the experience’s existence is pushing back against you, containing multiple excruciating dungeons in conjunction with enemies that genuinely just feel unfair, having capabilities that can decide to completely wipe you out even when you’re of extremely high levels, doing things such as putting your entire party to sleep, or having constant critical hits that bypass any defence that you have. This is also my favourite portion of the game however, and the one that works best for the game’s atmosphere, because of course the entire world is feeling hopeless to stop Hargon when this is the resistance he presents when you’re trying to reach him, it’s complete justification for why everyone is so terrified here, because it’s brutal in a way that nothing else in the game even comes close to touching. Everything from the Cave to Rhone to the end is a constant uphill battle that keeps escalating even when you swear that it surely has reached its peak by now, every fight is a close one where death is just one unlucky turn away, and your only safehaven leaves you entirely isolated at the top of a snowy mountain with your only quick way back down being one-way, effectively stranding you in this inhospitable wasteland unless you’re willing to brave the horrors of the cave once again, all culminating in a constant feeling of tension as you’re trying to get to the final castle time and time again, only to be met with a string of 5 bosses that each feel insurmountable on their own.
While the game’s final act spectacularly hits its target to make all the buildup worth it in some weird, twisted way, a large swathe of the rest makes the game as a whole feel pretty insufferable. While the escalating enemy difficulty that constantly pulls out some pretty cheap tricks plays nicely into the world being a more hostile place than ever, it completely kills the pacing of the game when you’re more often grinding than actually exploring in any serious capacity. The world is so big, but there’s no way to properly orient yourself most of the time, leading to situations where sometimes the next step you need to take is locating another town that you’ve barely heard anything about, and this is where the line between interesting player hostility and hostility that negatively impacts the experience comes in. While it’s true that the spirit of adventure can be found in aimless exploration of an unknown land, it feels a bit too obtuse here, there are clear places which you need to go, but you’re expected to get there just by wandering the open seas which feel too big and landmasses which feel hard to fully distinguish, combined with the middle portion of the game flatlining difficulty to the point where almost nothing feels like it can get in your way, further contributing to the confusing boredom. The talisman hunting isn’t great partially because of this, but also because of how most of them are hidden in extremely uninteresting locations that makes collecting them all feel like a huge anticlimax.
Dragon Quest 2 has some interesting ideas and is sometimes able to craft a very compelling atmosphere, but it’s also unfortunately a slog to get through that didn’t quite grasp how to effectively utilise its far greater scope in a way that didn’t feel cumbersome. It’s an ambitious title, but not one that works for me a lot of the time due to how much of it felt as aimless as it did. The NES version especially has these issues due to how you get much fewer resources to work with, along with no map or a way to warp to anywhere other than your last save point, making everything feel that much slower. Nonetheless was still happy to replay this and gain a deeper appreciation for it even if I still don’t really like playing it though, especially since I now have a greater point of reference to what it originally was like.
The game leans into this difficulty to effectively reinforce its tone, with its sense of hopelessness pervading each town you visit. The threat against the world feels so much scarier without the underlying optimism and belief that the legendary hero will be able to save the world, everyone is despondent, there are Kings that have hidden themselves away from the shame of being unable to do anything to stand up to Hargon, and any attempt at stopping the evil priest’s reign seem so out of reach. I don’t blame everyone for feeling so hopeless in the face of these threats either, because there’s very little working in favour of the player. While the combat system evolving to give the player a party and have battles move away from pure 1 on 1 encounters would seemingly make things easier, giving way to a wider range of strategies to employ and giving the enemies multiple targets to make it harder for the stunlocking nonsense of DQ1 to happen, the encounters are just, so much scarier for the most part. While your party caps out at 3 members, there can be up to 5 dangerous enemies that jump you at once, usually having spells that will damage your entire party, forcing you to divert a lot of your attack power into healing everyone back up before you can strike again. Adding to the problem is that your other party members completely suck, being extremely frail and mostly specialising in magic in a game that makes most spells entirely obsolete by the endgame. It hits a point where the other 2 members do such little damage that the optimal strategy is genuinely to just attack with your main character, and make the other 2 people block every turn unless they outright are required to cast a spell.
This reaches its peak in the last stretch of the game, where every fibre of the experience’s existence is pushing back against you, containing multiple excruciating dungeons in conjunction with enemies that genuinely just feel unfair, having capabilities that can decide to completely wipe you out even when you’re of extremely high levels, doing things such as putting your entire party to sleep, or having constant critical hits that bypass any defence that you have. This is also my favourite portion of the game however, and the one that works best for the game’s atmosphere, because of course the entire world is feeling hopeless to stop Hargon when this is the resistance he presents when you’re trying to reach him, it’s complete justification for why everyone is so terrified here, because it’s brutal in a way that nothing else in the game even comes close to touching. Everything from the Cave to Rhone to the end is a constant uphill battle that keeps escalating even when you swear that it surely has reached its peak by now, every fight is a close one where death is just one unlucky turn away, and your only safehaven leaves you entirely isolated at the top of a snowy mountain with your only quick way back down being one-way, effectively stranding you in this inhospitable wasteland unless you’re willing to brave the horrors of the cave once again, all culminating in a constant feeling of tension as you’re trying to get to the final castle time and time again, only to be met with a string of 5 bosses that each feel insurmountable on their own.
While the game’s final act spectacularly hits its target to make all the buildup worth it in some weird, twisted way, a large swathe of the rest makes the game as a whole feel pretty insufferable. While the escalating enemy difficulty that constantly pulls out some pretty cheap tricks plays nicely into the world being a more hostile place than ever, it completely kills the pacing of the game when you’re more often grinding than actually exploring in any serious capacity. The world is so big, but there’s no way to properly orient yourself most of the time, leading to situations where sometimes the next step you need to take is locating another town that you’ve barely heard anything about, and this is where the line between interesting player hostility and hostility that negatively impacts the experience comes in. While it’s true that the spirit of adventure can be found in aimless exploration of an unknown land, it feels a bit too obtuse here, there are clear places which you need to go, but you’re expected to get there just by wandering the open seas which feel too big and landmasses which feel hard to fully distinguish, combined with the middle portion of the game flatlining difficulty to the point where almost nothing feels like it can get in your way, further contributing to the confusing boredom. The talisman hunting isn’t great partially because of this, but also because of how most of them are hidden in extremely uninteresting locations that makes collecting them all feel like a huge anticlimax.
Dragon Quest 2 has some interesting ideas and is sometimes able to craft a very compelling atmosphere, but it’s also unfortunately a slog to get through that didn’t quite grasp how to effectively utilise its far greater scope in a way that didn’t feel cumbersome. It’s an ambitious title, but not one that works for me a lot of the time due to how much of it felt as aimless as it did. The NES version especially has these issues due to how you get much fewer resources to work with, along with no map or a way to warp to anywhere other than your last save point, making everything feel that much slower. Nonetheless was still happy to replay this and gain a deeper appreciation for it even if I still don’t really like playing it though, especially since I now have a greater point of reference to what it originally was like.
Chrono Cross
1999
Another entry from my List of the Thirty-Five Best Games I Played in 2023, now available à la carte:
On Chrono Cross (Or — "How I Developed a Palate for Poison")
My grandmother doesn’t live in Vermont anymore. A couple years ago, she and I went back there together and rented a place to relive those days. Naturally, the rental had some similarities to her old place. We drove around, taking in familiar sights, waiting for the rest of the family to join us. I fired up Chrono Cross for the first time one evening, and promptly came down with a case of water poisoning.
If I believed in omens, I’d take that as a bad one. I touched a game about a character who finds himself in an eerie facsimile of home, itself the strange and twisted sequel of a beloved favorite, and it left me hurling into a toilet. The water supply we’d been drawing from was unfit for human consumption. I spent the recovery period with Chrono Trigger and Dragon Quest V on DS, beneath the more familiar ceiling of a family friend’s house. I’d later start writing a non-review about how I didn’t have to play Chrono Cross, eschewing the pretense of being some aspiring member of the Backloggd “videogame intelligentsia.” I don’t need “cred,” right??
Well.
I played Chrono Trigger again in 2023 at least twice, depending on how you define a “playthrough”. The first was because I’d just finished Final Fantasy X and wanted to make some unfair comparisons. The second was because I was three-fourths of the way through Chrono Cross and…wanted to make some unfair comparisons. Even in the thick of it, I was avoiding the inevitable.
So…About the Game
Cross makes every effort possible to be anything but a clean, obedient sequel to its father. And you know what? Good. Trigger’s development was predicated on originality, and should likewise be followed up with another adventurous convention-breaker. The “Chrono Trigger 2” advocated by the likes of Johnny Millennium doesn’t appeal to me; lightning doesn’t strike twice. Still, Cross is Trigger’s opposite even in ways it really shouldn’t be.
With the exception of its original PSX audiovisual presentation, some of the most colorful and lush I’ve ever experienced, just about every one of its ideas is noncommittal and indecisive. Monsters appear on the overworld again, but you won’t find anything as deliberately paced as Trigger’s level design to elevate this from the status of "mild convenience." The conceit of its combat system is worth exploring – characters deal physical damage to build spell charges — but the deluge of party members and fully customizable spell slots amounts to a game that would’ve been impossible to balance. Level-ups are only granted during boss fights, and the gains acquired in normal battles aren’t worth the effort, so the whole thing snaps in half not 50% of the way through. It isn’t measured to account for the fact that you can take down just about everything with an onslaught of physical attacks by the midgame.
Then again, if the combat had been as challenging as the story is bizarre, I don’t know that I would’ve stuck around all the way to the end. Maybe I wouldn’t have been as gung-ho about swapping party members around and collecting them like Pokémon. Amid its spectacle and ambition, the wonder of sailing the seas and crossing dimensions, I left most events unsure of what to think, positive or negative. It wasn’t ambivalence, exactly.
SPOILERS AHEAD
It’s like this: Fairly early on, you’re given an infamous decision. One of the major protagonists, Kid, is dying of a magically-inflicted illness, and the only antidote is Hydra Humour. If you agree to go after it, you’ll find that it can only be extracted from the Guardian of the Marshes, and its death would mean the deterioration of the ecosystem which relies upon it. The dwarves and all other life in this biome would be put at risk. I weighed my options. I decided to reload a save and refuse the quest. Kid wouldn’t want her life to come at the cost of hundreds, if not thousands of others. So I start down the opposite path…
…Only to find that, in this route, a squad of human soldiers kills the hydra anyway, leaving the dwarves to flee their uninhabitable home to lead a genocidal attack on the fairies’ island to claim it for themselves. Jesus. The dwarves’ manic strangeness did little to downplay how chilling the result of my little coin flip was.
After an effort to defend the few remaining fairies and keep the dwarves at bay — leaving the survivors to process the turmoil of their new reality — after all that…it turns out that Kid is fine. She got over the illness by herself, offscreen.
For as many words as it goes on to spew, no moment of my Chrono Cross playthrough spoke louder than this one. Chrono Trigger’s party was faced with a choice — allow Lavos to erupt from the planet and drive everything to the brink of extinction, or risk everything to prevent the apocalypse. It’s a thousand years away, these three characters can live out the rest of their days comfortably and never have to concern themselves with it. They’re shown an End of Time, proof that the universe won’t last regardless of what they do, and still decide to fight on behalf of the world. It’s worth trying, if only to preserve a few more precious seconds of life for their descendants and their home.
Chrono Cross (eventually) reveals that their meddling allowed Lavos to become an even more devastating monster. We can defeat it, but who can say that won’t result in an even more cataclysmic fate? Because he lives and breathes, Serge’s timeline is worse off. It’s hard to tell whether that’s lore nonsense, self-flagellation on the game’s part, or genuine philosophizing. It wouldn’t be alone in that. As a chronic “downer,” I can’t help wondering if there’s no way to survive in the modern world without directly or indirectly participating in human suffering.
Maybe Writer/Director Masato Kato couldn’t either. He seems bent on reminding the player that they are but a speck in a cosmic puzzle, and there’s no defiant “so what?” answer to that problem. Even the thing we’ve been led to accomplish isn’t revealed until seconds before the finale of this forty hour game (and that's NOT a joke). You can’t see the credits without recognizing that it’s an unfortunate victim of mismanagement and a little too much Evangelion, but that doesn’t mean it fails to resonate. I don't think there’s another game that so thoroughly captures the existential confusion of being alive.
On Chrono Cross (Or — "How I Developed a Palate for Poison")
My grandmother doesn’t live in Vermont anymore. A couple years ago, she and I went back there together and rented a place to relive those days. Naturally, the rental had some similarities to her old place. We drove around, taking in familiar sights, waiting for the rest of the family to join us. I fired up Chrono Cross for the first time one evening, and promptly came down with a case of water poisoning.
If I believed in omens, I’d take that as a bad one. I touched a game about a character who finds himself in an eerie facsimile of home, itself the strange and twisted sequel of a beloved favorite, and it left me hurling into a toilet. The water supply we’d been drawing from was unfit for human consumption. I spent the recovery period with Chrono Trigger and Dragon Quest V on DS, beneath the more familiar ceiling of a family friend’s house. I’d later start writing a non-review about how I didn’t have to play Chrono Cross, eschewing the pretense of being some aspiring member of the Backloggd “videogame intelligentsia.” I don’t need “cred,” right??
Well.
I played Chrono Trigger again in 2023 at least twice, depending on how you define a “playthrough”. The first was because I’d just finished Final Fantasy X and wanted to make some unfair comparisons. The second was because I was three-fourths of the way through Chrono Cross and…wanted to make some unfair comparisons. Even in the thick of it, I was avoiding the inevitable.
So…About the Game
Cross makes every effort possible to be anything but a clean, obedient sequel to its father. And you know what? Good. Trigger’s development was predicated on originality, and should likewise be followed up with another adventurous convention-breaker. The “Chrono Trigger 2” advocated by the likes of Johnny Millennium doesn’t appeal to me; lightning doesn’t strike twice. Still, Cross is Trigger’s opposite even in ways it really shouldn’t be.
With the exception of its original PSX audiovisual presentation, some of the most colorful and lush I’ve ever experienced, just about every one of its ideas is noncommittal and indecisive. Monsters appear on the overworld again, but you won’t find anything as deliberately paced as Trigger’s level design to elevate this from the status of "mild convenience." The conceit of its combat system is worth exploring – characters deal physical damage to build spell charges — but the deluge of party members and fully customizable spell slots amounts to a game that would’ve been impossible to balance. Level-ups are only granted during boss fights, and the gains acquired in normal battles aren’t worth the effort, so the whole thing snaps in half not 50% of the way through. It isn’t measured to account for the fact that you can take down just about everything with an onslaught of physical attacks by the midgame.
Then again, if the combat had been as challenging as the story is bizarre, I don’t know that I would’ve stuck around all the way to the end. Maybe I wouldn’t have been as gung-ho about swapping party members around and collecting them like Pokémon. Amid its spectacle and ambition, the wonder of sailing the seas and crossing dimensions, I left most events unsure of what to think, positive or negative. It wasn’t ambivalence, exactly.
SPOILERS AHEAD
It’s like this: Fairly early on, you’re given an infamous decision. One of the major protagonists, Kid, is dying of a magically-inflicted illness, and the only antidote is Hydra Humour. If you agree to go after it, you’ll find that it can only be extracted from the Guardian of the Marshes, and its death would mean the deterioration of the ecosystem which relies upon it. The dwarves and all other life in this biome would be put at risk. I weighed my options. I decided to reload a save and refuse the quest. Kid wouldn’t want her life to come at the cost of hundreds, if not thousands of others. So I start down the opposite path…
…Only to find that, in this route, a squad of human soldiers kills the hydra anyway, leaving the dwarves to flee their uninhabitable home to lead a genocidal attack on the fairies’ island to claim it for themselves. Jesus. The dwarves’ manic strangeness did little to downplay how chilling the result of my little coin flip was.
After an effort to defend the few remaining fairies and keep the dwarves at bay — leaving the survivors to process the turmoil of their new reality — after all that…it turns out that Kid is fine. She got over the illness by herself, offscreen.
For as many words as it goes on to spew, no moment of my Chrono Cross playthrough spoke louder than this one. Chrono Trigger’s party was faced with a choice — allow Lavos to erupt from the planet and drive everything to the brink of extinction, or risk everything to prevent the apocalypse. It’s a thousand years away, these three characters can live out the rest of their days comfortably and never have to concern themselves with it. They’re shown an End of Time, proof that the universe won’t last regardless of what they do, and still decide to fight on behalf of the world. It’s worth trying, if only to preserve a few more precious seconds of life for their descendants and their home.
Chrono Cross (eventually) reveals that their meddling allowed Lavos to become an even more devastating monster. We can defeat it, but who can say that won’t result in an even more cataclysmic fate? Because he lives and breathes, Serge’s timeline is worse off. It’s hard to tell whether that’s lore nonsense, self-flagellation on the game’s part, or genuine philosophizing. It wouldn’t be alone in that. As a chronic “downer,” I can’t help wondering if there’s no way to survive in the modern world without directly or indirectly participating in human suffering.
Maybe Writer/Director Masato Kato couldn’t either. He seems bent on reminding the player that they are but a speck in a cosmic puzzle, and there’s no defiant “so what?” answer to that problem. Even the thing we’ve been led to accomplish isn’t revealed until seconds before the finale of this forty hour game (and that's NOT a joke). You can’t see the credits without recognizing that it’s an unfortunate victim of mismanagement and a little too much Evangelion, but that doesn’t mean it fails to resonate. I don't think there’s another game that so thoroughly captures the existential confusion of being alive.
Final Fantasy IX
2000
honestly feel like i should preface this with an apology but ff9 is kind of exhausting to me. it feels like going to a shift to work at a theme park; it's pretty and sweet, it's whimsical, and it has nice atmosphere and sometimes you even see your favorite characters walking around, but at the end of the day it's still a day of work to get through. going to just chalk it up as this one not being for me until a few years down the line where i yet again try to beat my head against this game until i like it